The Blanket Hypothesis
by FoxPhile
Summary: ONE SHOT. A response to The Blanket Hypothesis challenge on the Shamy thread at FanForum, inspired by press release photos for 7.11. No real spoilers - just speculation. "If in a reality without Sheldon, Amy's blanket isn't the same, it means Sheldon was involved in how she got the blanket. Come up with an explanation as to how Sheldon was involved in Amy getting her blanket."


**Author's Note: This is in response to The Blanket Hypothesis challenge posted on the Shamy thread at , which, in turn, was inspired by press release photos for the 7.11 episode. There aren't really any spoilers here – only speculation. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own **_**The Big Bang Theory or any of its characters**_**. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit and no infringement of copyrights is intended.**

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**The Blanket Hypothesis**

Sheldon opened the backdoor of Amy's car and carefully slid a bulky wrapped package onto the seat. He closed the door, opened the front and bent his lanky frame awkwardly until he was seated with as much comfort as possible in the undersized vehicle. He reached for the seatbelt, turned and nodded to the car's driver.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me this evening, Amy. I regret that I find myself in a position that requires that I disturb our normal schedules with this… impromptu rendezvous."

Amy put the car into reverse and slowly backed out of the spot she occupied in the parking lot at 2311 Los Robles. Her hands slipped on the steering wheel. When she paused to switch into a forward gear, she rubbed one hand against her dark brown corduroy skirt. She wasn't quite sure why she was nervous, but after reviewing her symptoms carefully, it was the only conclusion she could draw. Her heart was beating erratically, her palms were sweating profusely and her respiration rate was slightly above normal.

Thankfully, Sheldon was unlikely to notice. He would have to touch her to notice her heartbeat, and that was out of the question. In the event he noticed the sheen of sweat on her brow or her uneven breathing, she could pass that off as being due to the two cardigans she was wearing. They were appropriate for the temperature that morning, and for her lab, which always seemed to be just above freezing. But the afternoon had turned unseasonably warm for October and she wouldn't be lying if she told him she was roasting.

As they drove down Colorado Boulevard toward the freeway that lead to Glendale, Amy carefully segmented her mental functions to keep part of her brain on her driving, part occupied with playing the Elements game with Sheldon and the remainder working on the mystery of the cause of her nervous state.

It wasn't as if she'd never picked him up at his home before. Sheldon rode with her many times to attend lectures, or one-day symposia, or just to visit the zoo on a weekend afternoon. She'd also discovered that her new friend assumed that any and all of his acquaintances were at his beck and call to provide transportation services when required. His tedious roommate Leonard bore the brunt of that, of course. But Amy had twice pitched in to help Sheldon run errands when Leonard was unavailable. From what Sheldon told her, Leonard was unavailable more and more frequently due to his obsessive search for female companionship.

She also bore no delusions about the nature of her relationship with Sheldon. Despite the fact that their meeting was the result of an online dating match, their friendship was exactly that and no more – a friendship. Sheldon's friends were convinced otherwise, and seemed to miss no opportunity to tease the pair. Nevertheless, she remained a girl who was Sheldon's friend and he remained a boy who was Amy's friend, but that was all.

Still, ever since being put into the slightly titillating position of the bad girl of whom Sheldon's mother disapproves, Amy found herself sometimes wondering if their relationship might… someday… grow.

It was a silly notion. Sheldon never failed to reiterate his position that such relationships were, at best, a waste of time and energy. Amy had always been extremely uncomfortable with the sort of close physical contact required of a romantic relationship, so she too, avoided any such entanglements, despite her own mother's constant exhortations to "Find a man!"

Yet, when Sheldon called her that morning and politely inquired as to whether he could come and call on her at her apartment that evening, she felt an immediate and inexplicable fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

Perhaps, in part, it was the terminology he used. He literally said that he wanted to "come to call on her". Amy often indulged a guilty pleasure in reading historical romance novels, so she was well aware of the typical meaning of the phrase when addressed by a Southern gentleman to a lady. In fact, she'd been a bit surprised that the sometimes adorably proper Sheldon didn't insist that they engage a chaperone for the evening.

And then there was the simple fact that he was coming to _**her**_ apartment. Never before had he expressed any interest in visiting her home. When they weren't attending an event or sharing a meal with his friends in a restaurant, they always wound up in Sheldon's apartment. Amy realized quickly that Sheldon felt more in control in his own home, and therefore more comfortable. Thus, when he suddenly wanted to spend an evening at hers, it brought a torrent of speculation to Amy's mind.

Part of the problem, she realized, was; if Sheldon was suddenly changing the paradigm of their relationship, Amy was not at all sure it was something she wanted. And if she rejected him, would he be willing to go back to their comfortable girl / friend / boy / friend state? On the other hand, Sheldon was not exaggerating when he told his own mother that they were more similar to each other than anyone either of them had ever met. If Amy were given to flights of hyperbole, she'd say that Sheldon was her soul-mate, whether or not she believed in souls; and whether or not theirs was a relationship of the heart or of the mind.

Pushing those thoughts into a smaller corner of her mind, Amy diverted her attention to the task of navigating the vehicle off the freeway and onto the small side street where her apartment building was situated. She turned into the garage, parked in her spot and cut the engine.

"We're here!" she announced, smiling broadly.

"Well of course we're here, Amy," Sheldon answered, opening the door and beginning the arduous task of unfolding his body from the cramped seat. "If we were over there," he continued, pointing to a spot near the far wall, "then over there would be here and here would be over there. As we are unable to perceive more than 3 dimensions, we are always 'here.'"

Amy laughed. "I supposed I mean 'We've arrived', then Sheldon," she said.

"Very well," Sheldon responded as he reached into the back seat to retrieve his package. Standing, he looked around. "Where are the stairs?" he asked, "I assume your apartment is not on this level."

Amy grinned and motioned for him to follow her. "We don't have to take the stairs, Sheldon. My building has a working elevator!"

The pair proceeded to the bank of elevators where a car was conveniently waiting. Amy gestured for Sheldon to precede her, then followed and pressed the button for the third floor. When the door reopened, she led the way down the hall and around the corner to 314.

"Hmmmm. Three One Four," Sheldon murmured, a tone of approval in his voice. "I don't suppose you could ask to have that changed to Three One Four One Five Nine Two Six Five Three Five..."

"Sheldon!" Amy interrupted, turning her key in the lock and pushing open the door. "I don't think all of that would fit on the door."

She walked in and tossed her key into the bowl on the small table by the door. She removed one of the cardigans and hung it on a peg on the wall, then turned to Sheldon.

"Please," she said, indicating the couch, "make yourself comfortable. It's a bit warm for tea, but perhaps you would like something cool to drink. I have water, of course, as well as soda. And there's an odd bottle of Yoo-Hoo that my cousin left here a few days ago. I can't imagine you'd want it, but if you do, I don't think she'd mind. She never comes by more than once a year."

"Yoo-Hoo!" Sheldon exclaimed, "I'd love some! It's one of my three favorite beverages, narrowly trailing Strawberry Quik and hot chocolate!"

Sheldon moved further into the room, but did not sit down and continued to clutch the package at his side. "Despite the fact that this is a month with an 'R' in it, I agree, it's too warm for hot chocolate. And I've discovered to my intense chagrin that the likelihood of anyone having Strawberry Quik available is directly proportional to the likelihood that they are my mother. As you are unequivocally not my mother, I can therefore assume that you don't have Strawberry Quik."

"No, Sheldon," Amy answered, making her way over to the small kitchen to get their refreshments, "I'm certainly not your mother and I don't have Strawberry Quik." She opened the refrigerator and rummaged around to find the slender bottle full of light brown liquid. Once she found the Yoo-Hoo, she grabbed it and a bottle of water and set the two on the counter while she got down two glasses from her cabinet. As she poured Sheldon's drink into a glass, she continued. "But I'll be sure to keep your beverage preferences in mind for future reference."

Amy looked up and noticed that Sheldon was pacing behind the small couch in her living room area, still clutching his package. He got to one end, paused, lifted a hand to his face and tapped his temple with one finger. "Hmmmm," he muttered, then proceeded to the other end and turned again.

"Amy," he inquired, "are you fond of this blanket?" He held out a hand to indicate the faded old covering that lay across the back of the couch. Like much of her household furnishings, Amy acquired it when her grandmother passed away some years before. It held no sentimental value – it was merely something to keep her warm when she sat up late reading at night.

"No, I'm not 'fond' of it," Amy replied, grabbing the two beverages and making her way over to stand next to Sheldon.

Before she could hand Sheldon his drink, he grabbed the blanket and quickly ripped it off the back of the couch, flinging it towards the door.

"Good, you won't mind getting rid of it, then," he said, while simultaneously thrusting the package he now held in both his hands towards Amy, oblivious to the fact that she had no empty hands to take it with.

Amy lifted the two glasses in the air, indicating that she was unable to take the package, which was rather sizeable.

"Oh! Of course!" Sheldon exclaimed, "here…"

He balanced the oversized package on one hand like a waiter's tray while he took the glass of Yoo-Hoo from Amy with the other. He then held the package out to her once again. It was lumpy and shapeless, and sagged slightly on each side.

"Wait, Sheldon," said Amy, "maybe we should sit down before we spill our drinks."

Sheldon cocked his head a moment then nodded. Enfolding the bulky package under his arm, he walked swiftly around to the other side of the couch and sat down. Amy proceeded around the other side more slowly. Sheldon was sitting on the end nearest the window, which was usually her preferred spot, but knowing how he was about his particular spot in his own home, she supposed she could let him sit where he liked, at least for now. She set her glass down on the table and was about to take a seat herself when suddenly Sheldon stood back up, nearly spilling the glass of Yoo-Hoo he still held in one hand.

"No, no, no, no, no. This won't do at all. Move!" Sheldon demanded as he carefully stepped to the other side of the couch. He contorted himself awkwardly to avoid any contact with Amy in the small space between the couch and the coffee table until he was seated at the opposite end.

Amy stepped to the other side, turned and plopped wearily down into her spot. Once she was settled, she reached for her abandoned water and slid it across the table so that it would be within her reach.

"Oh, yes! That's much better!" Sheldon exclaimed, wiggling his butt into the seat cushions. "Why, Amy Farrah Fowler. You have a spot here that's nearly as comfy as my spot at home. Thenceforth, this shall be my spot in your home!"

He set his drink down, leaned back and once more thrust the package towards her. "I'm sure you must be wondering what's in here."

"I admit to a certain curiosity," Amy replied, reaching out to take the package. She set it down on the space between them. Even for its size, it seemed a bit heavy. "Is it a gift?"

Sheldon rolled his eyes. "It is; but it's important that you understand, this gift is NOT FROM ME. I do not care for the practice of gift-giving and I participate only when forced to by social convention."

"I see," Amy replied, although truthfully, she really didn't. "Then this is a gift from…?"

"My Meemau."

"Your Meemau? Forgive me, Sheldon, but who… or what… is your Meemau?"

"My grandmother."

"Your grandmother? Then isn't this gift for you? As we've never met, I can think of no reason why your grandmother would send a gift to me, Sheldon. Are you re-gifting it to me for some reason?"

Sheldon sighed. He reached for his drink and took a long swig of the Yoo-Hoo. He sighed again. "No, Amy. The gift is for you. It's a family tradition, apparently."

"Sheldon, I'm only getting more confused. I'm not a member of your family. How can this be a family tradition?"

Sheldon gestured toward the package. "Perhaps it would help you to understand if you open it."

Amy shrugged, and proceeded to remove the brown Kraft paper covering the package. She noticed that her full name, Amy Farrah Fowler, was neatly printed on one side. It took only a moment to remove the paper and reveal the contents. Amy's eyes widened as a large, hand-crocheted blanket was revealed.

"Sheldon!" she exclaimed. "This is lovely! Did your grandmother make this?"

Sheldon smiled. "Yes. Meemau explained that she made a blanket for each of her grandchildren. But," he paused.

Amy looked up and noticed that his ears were tinged with pink and color was rising from his shirt collar.

"She told us…" Sheldon paused again, swallowed, then continued, speaking so fast Amy nearly missed some of what he said.

"She-said-the-blankets-were-not-for-us-but-she-would-give-them-to-the-person-she-felt-was-destined-to-be-our-soul-mate-as-soon-as-she-knew-who-that-was." He took in a deep breath, let it out suddenly, grabbed his glass and downed the remainder of his Yoo-Hoo in one gulp.

Amy could not think of anything to say. She gently stroked the blanket. It was beautiful and soft and the workmanship was exquisite. It would kill her to return it, but it was obvious this was a huge misunderstanding - unless this was Sheldon's awkward way of moving their relationship to a new realm. Even in that event, she couldn't accept it. Not when she didn't know whether that was something she even wanted.

"Obviously, my mother spoke to Meemau after she met you, and this is the result."

Sheldon was speaking again. Amy tore her eyes away from the beautiful blanket and looked at the man seated across from her. When did his eyes get so beautifully blue?

"My mother is convinced that ours is a…" Sheldon lifted his hands and made air quotes. "… boyfriend / girlfriend relationship." He lowered his arms and clasped his hands in his lap, lowering his gaze as he did so. "I have done my best to explain that you are a girl and you are my friend, but you are not my girlfriend. But my mother will not hear of it, and she has apparently seen fit to spread this myth throughout East Texas. Now my Meemau is convinced that you are my soul-mate, so she's sent this blanket for you." Sheldon was nervous, too, Amy realized. He'd rubbed the palms of his hands down his pants legs twice, and now he was absently picking bits of non-existent lint from his knee. "I must tell you, Amy, this is the first time in my considerable memory that my Meemau and I have ever disagreed on anything and I find it most distressing. Yet I find myself unable to defy her wishes. So… the blanket is yours. I hope that it will serve to… keep you warm."

Sheldon looked up and Amy found herself gazing at him. Gazing! Since when did she gaze at any man – or any woman, for that matter? Amy Farrah Fowler was a scientist and had no interest in that sort of thing. Except that he was gazing back at her, and she could feel something warm building in her belly and working its way down to…

"Sheldon I… I don't know what to say. This is lovely – and that's a lovely tradition – but I can't…" she lifted the blanket up to give it back to him.

"Oh yes you can, Amy Farrah Fowler!" Sheldon pushed the blanket back toward her. "I told my Meemau I would give you this blanket and I've never lied to Meemau. Just as long as you and I understand that absolutely nothing changes. You are still just a girl who is my friend, no matter what ridiculous ideas my mother has put into Meemau's head. Agreed?"

Amy smiled, clutching the blanket and feeling suddenly possessive. "Of course, Sheldon," she nodded, and settled back into her seat, stroking the soft threads of her new blanket.

"_Five years"_ she thought, "_in five years it will be two-thousand fifteen. I should draw up a plan…_"

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**Author's Note: There you have it – my interpretation of how Amy got her granny square blanket. Long Live Shamy. And long live reviewers!**


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